


Closer Than Most

by FaunaFauna



Category: Osamu Tezuka Star System, Tetsuwan Atom | Astro Boy
Genre: Friends With Benefits, Light-Hearted, M/M, Road Trips, although one of the benefits is the car
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-12
Updated: 2016-06-27
Packaged: 2018-07-14 15:07:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,595
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7176821
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FaunaFauna/pseuds/FaunaFauna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>(Pre-1980 series) Hammond "Hamegg" Egg has a chance to get one of his dream jobs. Acetylene Lamp has to get to his daughter's birthday party. They're going the same way, so why not double up? It's a 12 hour drive, and Hamegg and Lamp are determined to make it on time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I originally got the idea for some sort of road trip adventure with these two around mid-2014, but only now did a lot of my ideas start to fall into place. This takes place some years before the first episode of the 1980 anime series. A lot of the headcanons and filler details throughout the story are my own, but I'm not claiming eminent domain on them. In short, this is a writing exercise that got bigger than expected. Please enjoy!

Everything that could have made for perfect sales day was right there in that mall. The Friday midday sun beamed down through diamond-shaped skylights, illuminating the streams of contented shoppers; they passed by as a blur of pastels, warm colours, and freshly padded wallets. From his kiosk, Hamegg almost wondered if _he_ was the problem.

 The Newberg’s Tin Novelties booth, a furnished wooden cart one could describe as “pathetic”, sat adorned with little tin robots, cars, and parrots. Hamegg proudly had a genuine vendor's license and the mall's authority to sell – registering himself under an alias – but the toys had been “re-appropriated” during a “private visit” to a poorly locked and monitored storage facility.

 Hamegg leaned against his cart with a sigh, almost praying for a customer. Even _one_ toy's sale that day would put him at ease. He thought to himself, _Could wind-up toys just not be interesting_ _when we've got all these robots_ _? Kids don't appreciate the classics._

 What a letdown. He'd even worn his best green plaid suit that day.

 “I thought you were joking,” came the boom of a man's voice a few feet away.

 Hamegg whirled around in a flurry of limbs and plaid. His nerves settled upon seeing a familiar face, and then re-accelerated when reality sunk in.

 “L-L-Long time no see, Lamp!” Hamegg wheezed, adjusting his bow tie. Acetylene Lamp, ever unimpressed, stood four feet from the kiosk, a designer shoe store's paper bag in hand and a stern glare on his face.

 “A damn mall vendor,” Lamp sneered with fatherly disappointment. “Is this really that “big idea” you were raving about?”

 “But Lamp, it's pure profit!” Hamegg gestured to his wares with a showy flick of the wrist. “You in the market for a collectible vintage-style battery-free tin toy?”

 Lamp sighed, “Hamegg...”

 “Sorry, don't know anybody by that name,” Hamegg said with an edge; a familiar cue between them. “You're speaking to a Mr. Levi Newberg.”

 Lamp nodded, catching on quickly. His bitterness quickly returned, and he replied, “Mr. Levi, I'll _pay_ you to _not_ stand out here with this stupid cart.”

 That hurt. “Come on, Lamp, I'm not a mooch! Just let me earn some semi-honest money out here!”

 Lamp took a step back, nodding. He tried to take on a more casual stance; part of him hoped he could look like an enquiring customer to drum up other shoppers' interests.

 “How's, uh, business been?”

 Hamegg sighed in disgust. “It's been three hours with absolutely nothing. I sold two yesterday, and spent the gains within hours.”

 “You can do better than this, Ha-- I mean, Levi.”

 “I know.” Hamegg turned to Lamp, exhausted. “I've got a fantastic job offer out of town, but I can't quite foot the bus ticket out there.”

 “Where is it?”

 “Out in Belvidere.”

 Lamp paused, his eyes lighting up, pieces coming together in his head. “Belvidere...”

 Hamegg stood by, watching this, awkwardly poised and confused. He gave a small nod.

 “My ex lives there. I'm heading out there this weekend,” Lamp said, alight. “I could give you a ride out there.”

 “Yeesh, your ex? You heading out there for your funeral?” Hamegg laughed heartily at his own joke.

 “It's my daughter's birthday.”

 And the laughter shut off. Lamp was unfazed by the wisecrack and still stood by, eager, a boyish smirk on his face. When Hamegg turned back to face him, Lamp asked, “You wanna close up shop early and get a bite to eat? I was just about ready to head out.”

 “Well, how can I resist?” Hamegg grinned ear to ear. He began pulling down the cart's aluminium gates, struggling to lock them down with his jittery hands. Lamp had been so busy with his own work that the two of them hadn't been able to see as much of each other like they used to. Hamegg almost felt out of place in his life without his long-time partner-in-crime around.

 When the cart was securely shut down, the beaming Hamegg turned on his heel to face an equally eager Lamp. With a proud tug of his bowtie, Hamegg asked, “Now where to, ol' buddy?” 

°°°°°°°

Lamp sat in the driver's seat of his sleek black aerocar, parked outside of Hamegg's apartment building, waiting for him to come back out with his travel bag. Lamp idly ate a takeout cheeseburger. It was such a satisfying but foreign feeling to eat something cheap and messy again.

 He caught sight of Hamegg running down the building's front steps, two suitcases and a duffel bag in tow. Lamp let out a pained groan in disbelief.

 “You don't need to bring everything you own,” Lamp called out when Hamegg started loading up the back seat.

 “Actually, I do...!” Hamegg came around to the passenger's seat. “This is a permanent position. I'll be travelling _with_ them.”

 “Speaking of...” Lamp started the car. “You haven't even told me what it is.”

 “Give me a drumroll first.”

 “No.”

 “Fine, but you owe me one for later.” Hamegg buckled himself in. “I'm gonna be...the ringmaster of a robot circus!”

 Lamp choked on his food, shocked. He sputtered, “A _what_?! Ham, that's great! That's very your style!”

 “Sure is! I met one of the circus's sponsors at a casino a week ago. He said I had the flair, the drive, the _joie de vivre_ that he was looking for!”

 “I'm proud of you, Ham.”

 “I'm proud of me, too. I gave him a call just now to let him know I'll be in town in a day or two, and I can take over from the current ringmaster.”

 Lamp turned onto the highway. “Did that guy quit?”

 “Nah, they're firin' him because they caught him canoodlin' with one of the robot acrobats.”

 “Disgusting.”

 “Yeah.”

 Lamp finished his cheeseburger as they finally began to soar down the highway. Hamegg sat back, taking it in; Billy Paul crooned on the radio as the scenery soared by, and it gave Hamegg a satisfying, freeing feeling he had been deeply missing.

 “The mall can keep the tin toys,” he sighed. “But I brought one along. A gift for your daughter, y'know? It's a little wind-up parrot.”

 “My daughter's turning sixteen, Ham.”

 Hamegg shrugged. “Then she can use it as a decorative piece! The vintage look is coming back. Kids today love that crap.”

 “ _We can't afford_ ,” Billy Paul sung along. “ _To build our hopes up too high..._ ”

 “Listen to Billy, Ham. It's an omen.”

 “Your kid's gettin' a parrot and that's final.”

 “Hmph. Suit yourself.”

 Hamegg sat back, proud as before. The sedan was whisking them away to the outskirts of Cliff City, and it felt so free...all the fake names, the unpaid bills, the thugs and the cops and the punks. They were peeling off of Hamegg's back the further Lamp drove out. Hamegg felt so assured to know he would no longer just be some odd job weasel.

 He'd be coming back to town one day as _Ringmaster_ Hamegg. 

°°°°°°°

 The road to Belvidere was a twelve hour drive. Lamp figured they'd arrive Saturday evening or Sunday morning, but kept his options open. Long drives had become a breeze after all the business trips he'd been taking in recent years. However, he hadn't done them with a nervy and skittish man by his side.

 Hamegg was, at that moment, in the process of what almost looked like shoulder-checking his seat. He whined, “I can't get comfortable! How do people do this?”

 “They don't wear wall-to-wall polyester, I imagine.”

 “Can't we stop at a motel already?!”

 “I think I can clock in another hour,” said Lamp. He was mostly daring himself.

 “Aren't you getting tired?”

 “Eh, maybe a little, but--”

 “So your plan is to stop only when you wrap us around a tree.”

 “I'm not gonna get us killed, Ham!”

 “Haven't you ever seen that public service film where the guy drives through a kid's soccer game? The guy starts closing his eyes while some schlocky pop music is playing, and then he just—” Hamegg accentuated by forming his hand flat and slicing it through the air. “— _slams_ right through this row of hedges and into this ginger kid playing goalie, and his dad starts screaming bloody murder as som—”

 “Oh my _God_ , I'm turning, I'm turning!” Lamp yelled bitterly as he switched lanes. A Restlodge was coming up quickly on their right, an oasis in a desert upon Hamegg's eyes.

 

°°°°°°°

 It wasn't long before the men had settled into their room, a little pale yellow one with twin beds and a minibar. Hamegg took a shower he had long been craving, and Lamp stood in a white terrycloth robe on the tiny balcony, biting into a cigar.

 The distant sounds of a blowdryer gave Lamp an indication that Hamegg was done. Eventually the gangly man returned to the room, now having changed into a fresh undershirt and boxers. Lamp gave a look over his shoulder; Hamegg wore his usual nervous smile, his hair a tangle of jet black misshapen curls, his limbs long and slim. He was awkward-looking, but it was how he had always been, and it was a comforting familiarity for Lamp.

 “Lookin' good, Ham,” Lamp said after a moment, knowing he could've done better. He realized he almost sounded sarcastic.

 “W-Why don't you throw that thing away and come watch some TV, eh...?” Hamegg said shakily, his nervous grin spreading.

 “You don't _not_ finish a Cuban cigar, Ham.” Lamp turned away with a mouthful of smoke.

 The TV clicked on. Hamegg skimmed through before calling out, “But come on! _The Fifth Element_ is on channel 17!”

 “I'll step in when I feel like it.”

 Hamegg balled his fists up, feeling his frustration build by the second. The subtle approach obviously wouldn't work when Lamp was in one of his bigshot moods. Hamegg stood up, strolled over to the balcony doorway, and gently snaked his arms around Lamp's chest. The two stood between the star-speckled pitch black night and the yellowy light of the hotel room, Hamegg's teeth gingerly nipping at the bulkier man's neck. Lamp stayed perfectly still, albeit now looking even more smug behind his cigar.

 “I get jealous of that thing sometimes,” Hamegg said with a nod at the damned cigar, whispering right into Lamp's ear.

 “Mmm.” Lamp let a pleasant heat flood his body. “Has it really been so long?”

 “This was always one of my favourite parts of bein' the gruesome twosome...” Hamegg sighed. “...Don't be a stranger, Ace.”

 Lamp groaned, but his smile didn't falter. “I've told you not to call me that, Ham.”

 “I'll call you that 'til you get changed out of those clothes!”

 “What clothes?” Lamp tossed the cigar over the balcony. He turned around and whipped open his robe, resting his hands on his hips. Hamegg stared down, eyes wide in shock. His beaming grin quickly returned.

 Hamegg looked back up at Lamp's self-satisfied face and said, “Thinking ahead as always, huh?”

 “As _always_ , Ham.” Lamp pulled off the robe and followed Hamegg back into the room, buck naked. “As always.”


	2. Chapter 2

“So,” Hamegg asked from the passenger's seat. “Which kid of yours is this?”

They had been out on the road for about 45 minutes, with 11 AM rapidly approaching. Lamp was proud of the good time he was making, so much so that his eyes remained locked on the road ahead. He dug into his blazer pocket, grabbed his wallet, and tossed it to Hamegg's lap.

Hamegg picked it up and held it to his face, theatrically batting his eyes. “For me? Aw, how generous, ol' buddy!”

“No, smartass, open it. Look at my photos.”

Hamegg did as ordered, snapping the leather wallet open. An accordion of plastic photos streamed out with a butterfly-like flapping sound. Hamegg tutted, furrowing his brow as he studied the photos. Six kids, at least two of his ex-wives, and a new girlfriend.

“God, you must spend a ton at Christmas,” he said.

“Second photo from the top,” Lamp continued. “My second oldest, Milda. She's having an all-weekend sweet sixteen.”

“Aw, cute,” Hamegg cooed genuinely.

“I've been on the phone with her yesterday, but you know I'd rather be there. I'm coming by with a pair of Pablo Riviera shoes for her. I wired her mother enough money to buy her a convertible, so she should h--”

Hamegg whistled, stunned. He exclaimed, “Hundred-dollar heels and a stinkin' car! And you couldn't foot my bill at the burger joint yesterday?!”

“Well, call me up when you have your sweet thirty-nine, _Egg_ , and I'll buy you a burger.”

“That's not the point!”

Lamp was suddenly distracted, staring out at the hood of the car. Both men fell into a tense silence. The heady smell of burning plastic started to seep in through the air vents.

“Stop the car,” Hamegg started to sputter. “Stop the damn car!”

Lamp frantically shouted, “We can't! We've got five hours to go!”

“ _Stop_ the  _car_ already, Ace! This is a problem!”

Lamp messily pulled over to the side of the road and yanked out the keys. The aerocar came to rest on the ground with a less than gentle thud, and Hamegg scrambled out of the car in a tangle of limbs. With jittery hands, he flung open the hood and peered in. A thin stream of opaque grey smoke trailed out of the centre of the aerocar's workings. Hamegg immediately identified the damage and hissed like a stabbed man, clapping a hand to his face.

Lamp could hear the agonized sound, and yelled out, “What's wrong?!”

“The carburetor is pooched,” Hamegg wailed. “The digital regulator must've overheated!”

The words sunk slowly and painfully into Lamp's head, and his face twisted in frustration. He howled a stream of profanities and slammed a fist into the centre of the wheel, sending a squealing horn honk out into the empty highway.

 _Almost_ empty. Lamp snapped to attention and shuffled out of the car, searching for Hamegg. The gangly man lay on the gravel-dusted roadside, dazed from the blast of sound.

“S-Sorry, buddy,” Lamp sputtered quietly.

Hamegg struggled a grin. He replied, “ _Va bene_.”

Lamp pulled Hamegg off the ground and dusted off his plaid suit. They stood together at the side of the highway, swamped in a mutual feeling of nervousness, at the side of the empty, dusty Highway 173.

“You think, uh...” Hamegg looked around, grinning nervously. “...Maybe one of those robot maintenance crews might come by, maybe?”

“We can't just stand around and wait for one.” Lamp pulled out a cigarette, biting into it bitterly. “We're just outside Fujimi Village. There's nothing there but abandoned buildings and a podunk gas station.”

Hamegg lifted a hand and suddenly froze. His eyes widened more than Lamp had ever seen before, and Hamegg breathed in, jittery with joy as he frantically snapped his fingers.

He began to yelp, “Oh! Oh! _Oh_! Lamp! _Lamp_!”

“...You're not having a breakdown, are you?”

“No! No!” Hamegg grabbed Lamp's shoulders, shaking him. “Skunk's new hideout is out here!”

Pieces clicked together in the beefier man's head. He pulled the cigarette from his mouth and breathed, “Really?”

“Y-Yeah! He and I still write each other,” Hamegg squealed, stepping back. “And he's hiding out here! The man owns gobs of cars! We can still make it to Belvidere!”

Lamp felt his joy overflow and he shouted, “Ham! I could kiss you!”

“What's stoppin' you?!” Hamegg grabbed Lamp's collar and yanked him into a loud, high-pressure kiss. He sprung back, skipping back to the car. “I'll give Skunk a call!”

°°°°°°°

Hamegg and Lamp had met Skunk Kusai in their youth, in business college, of all places. The three were vastly different – a meek ball of nerves, a wealthy military brat, and a former high school delinquent – but the three clicked together so well that even the boys were surprised. They had gotten along so well, in fact, that they'd managed to pay for their programs through fantastic early heists.

In the end, Lamp graduated as a B student, eager to turn his degree into a gateway to some bureaucratic crime. Hamegg had just barely made it out of the program alive, between the crushing exam stress and being bored with his assignments. However, Skunk had coasted effortlessly through college and almost disappeared from the boys' lives a year after. Lamp and Hamegg had only been given a promise from Skunk that he'd “finally get the mob together.”

 _My God,_ Lamp thought years later. _H_ _e really did it_.

He and Hamegg were being escorted up the road in a cherry red aerohauler truck. Lamp's car was secured in the back, being picked at by a few of Skunk's handier men. Meanwhile, the duo sat in the van front, shoved in with their belongings and the van driver. He was silent and hulking, his hair long and shabby, smirking absentmindedly as he chewed on the end of a toothpick.

“So, uh...” Lamp began. “What's your name, young man?”

“Ox,” he said, not taking his eyes off the road.

“Do you, er, have a real name?”

“Sure do, and you're not gettin' it,” Ox growled.

Lamp sunk nervously back into his seat.

They drove into the husk of a cement factory on the other edge of Fujimi Village. Lamp and Hamegg were escorted by a pair of henchmen into the building's main hall. It was a dusty, ugly old packaging room, with pool tables and new lights added to give it the faintest feeling of home. A familiar figure in a black suit stood by a card table up ahead, overlooking an ongoing pool game.

“Long time no see,” Skunk called out, his back to the incoming group. “A busted carburetor, I hear.”

He turned to face them with a drink in hand; it couldn't have been any later than 11:30 AM. Skunk was a tall, mysterious man, with naturally sickly-coloured skin and an equally natural smirk. He seemed tailored by nature to be the country's most sinister-looking mob boss, but for Hamegg and Lamp, he was always a sight for sore eyes.

“Skunk, you glorious bastard!” Lamp boomed, rushing forward to the card table. “You're a godsend!”

“Sure am. I can loan you boys a car...” Skunk began pouring another tumbler of whiskey. “...I've got another carburetor kicking around, but it's in a pile of crap somewhere. Who wants a drink?”

Hamegg slithered up to the table, accepting the tumbler. “I'll be commandeerin' this one. Lamp's driving, y'know.”

Skunk nodded in approval. He turned to Lamp, asking, “You got a car preference?”

“Not really...” Lamp knew he sounded bashful. “You're already doing us such a favour here.”

“Well, I'll send you out with this little white coupe I've got. Just fuelled it up and everything.” Skunk sat down at the table, putting his feet up on its edge. “Should be tasteful enough to take to your kid's party, too.”

Hamegg sighed. “A coupe sounds pretty cozy, too.”

Skunk's eyes darted between the two, adding, “Heh, you got a honeymoon on the itinerary too?”

“Well, I wouldn't mi--” Hamegg managed, before Lamp's hand clamped over his mouth.

The mood in the room around had relaxed, with the sound of pool balls clacking against each other echoing pleasantly through the room. Hamegg seemed to inhale his drink, and then slammed it down on the tabletop with a victorious hoot. One man by the pool table applauded.

“Hey, whoa, take it easy, Ham,” Skunk said, stern, but in a semi-drunk kind of way. “Don't get too wild. You've gotta go get that job.”

 Hamegg sunk sheepishly into his chair. “R-Right.”

“But come back when you get it, and I'll take you for a real night on the town, you feel me?” Skunk smirked, not wanting to keep him down for long.

“Right! And we'll try out some old tricks, too!” Hamegg exclaimed with a wink, pointing his hand like a gun.

Lamp watched, feeling nostalgic and almost a little ashamed. He didn't like to admit where he'd gotten his first financial headstart, but he also couldn't deny how fun the old heists had been. The sound of a slow moving aerocar brought Lamp out from his thoughts, and he turned around. A coupe indeed, an off-white little two-door, was being driven into the main hall. It wasn't too flashy but it wasn't ugly either. Skunk knew Lamp's sense of style.

“There's your loaner, guys!” Skunk said as he refilled his drink. “We'll have the carburetor worked out by the time you get to town.”

The three strolled over to the coupe. Ox pulled his bulky body out of the driver's seat, turning to toss Lamp the keys. Meanwhile, Hamegg whistled affectionately upon finally seeing the coupe up close.

“Niiice,” he cooed. “We'll bring it back with a full tank of gas!”

“Just don't dent her or fool around in it, and we're even.” Skunk clapped an approving hand on Hamegg's shoulder. “Now go get your asses to town.”

°°°°°°°

“So tell me again about the wives...” Hamegg was looking through the photos in Lamp's wallet once more. “...I've known you for twenty years and even _I_ can't keep track.”

“You can't keep track of your own shoes,” Lamp hissed, biting into his cigarette. They had two hours to go, and they'd together burned through two packs of cigarettes out of sheer nervousness. Cycling the air from outside had managed to help a tad in providing useable oxygen.

“Rude,” Hamegg hissed back at his partner. “Just tell me the story. Maybe I can get a nap out of it.”

Lamp flicked the end of yet another cigarette out the window, sighing, “Fine. So, Zephyra was my first wife. She was a tall, blonde Greek with a rack you could perform Shakespeare on. Married her right out of college. You were the best man, remember?”

“How could I forget?”

“Yeah! We had Eva and Milda. When they were young, Zephyra and I started fighting more often, and I didn't want the kids to be around that, so...”

“Ah.” Hamegg had been joking about a nap, but he really was feeling his eyelids grow heavier. Lamp's voice could be particularly soothing to listen to when the bigger man was in a relaxed mood.

“So then you and I fooled around a bit, I went to work in America, and then I met Frances. You never met her, but everybody called her Fanny.” Lamp thought about the woman for a second, pausing on a breath. “Bright red hair. She was an exotic dancer in Pacific Palisades. We had Greta, and Fanny's body was still a solid 10 after the baby. We had to split up because of wo--”

Hamegg made a snorting noise, one Lamp almost thought was a jeer at first, until he turned to see the smaller man had fallen asleep. He sighed in annoyance as he pulled the cigarette out of Hamegg's mouth and put it into his own.

“Moron...” Lamp grumbled. “...Could've burned down the damn car...”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Zephra, Milda, and Eva are adapted from their characters of similar names in "Swallowing the Earth." I totally recommend that work. It's full of crazy stuff going on, but its central conflict is initiated by Lamp being the worst father ever. Louise also comes from a dub-only joke in the Jungle Emperor Leo movie. Enough from me, though; it's time to wrap things up.

The sky was a stormy mix of purple, gold, and pink. Pastel colours beamed down on the bowing ocean waves, as they gently crashed on the beach shore. In the twilight, Hamegg sat on the sand, hands shaking as he stared up at the bikini-clad female figure ankle deep in the shore. Louise – oh, fair Louise of the Estée Lauder booth, with the perfectly-coiffed brown hair and the wide hips – stood before Hamegg, her arms opened invitingly.

“Come run with me,” she breathed. “My husband's out of town again!”

“H-H-How could I say no?” Hamegg sputtered, scrambling to his feet. “Take me, Louise!”

The skies above opened up, revealing the misty, purple visage of Lamp's irritated face. He boomed, “Who the hell is Louise? Wake up!”

Hamegg woke with a jolt, finding himself to still be strapped into the coupe's passenger seat. The car was parked. Lamp sat beside him, glaring; they were on the street beside an exhibition lot containing the grey dome of the robot circus. The crowds were gone and the external lights were off, but shady cars remained parked outside.

“This is the place, right?” Lamp asked, his tone a bit softer now. Hamegg stared out at the dome and nodded nervously.

“Just in time, too, uh...” Hamegg whipped open the overhead mirror and began organizing his hair into something a tad less shabby. “H-How do I look, buddy?”

“Like a greased-up used car salesman. You're perfect.”

Hamegg climbed out of the car, grabbed his bags out of the back, and stood at the curb for a moment. He turned over his shoulder to apprehensively check on Lamp. The bigger man only glared back, making a shooing motion with his hand.

“Well, go on,” Lamp hissed.

Hamegg smirked back at him, a fond look on his face, saying, “You're the best, Ace.”

Lamp winced. “I told you not to call me that! Now go get the job.”

Hamegg nodded excitedly, stepped back, and loudly shut the coupe door. Lamp watched the stringy man turn away and run up the exhibition lot. As soon as Hamegg was close enough to the dome, Lamp turned back to the steering wheel and started the aerocar. He soared up the street as the engine made a satisfying hum. But the peace didn't last, as Lamp dug yet another cigarette out of his jacket pocket and lit it with jittery hands.

Next stop, Milda's birthday party.

°°°°°°°

Zephra Holstein stood at the counter of Love Sugar Karaoke, trying to look reserved as her youngest daughter Milda's party barrelled on. The girl stood with two of her friends on the karaoke platform, hot pink holographic hearts and starts swirling around them as the girls sang. One of the restaurant employees dropped off an alcoholic ice tea at Zephra's side, and she accepted it with a nod.

Lamp had said he'd be “late”. Milda was eagerly anticipating him, and so was her older sister Eva, who'd yet to arrive. Zephra had her expectations set low enough to breach the ocean floor. She took a stiff drink of her ice tea and stared with exhaustion at the door.

Milda, in the meantime, had just finished the chorus of One To One's “Hearts and Diamonds,” some archaic piece of electric music; the “oldies” were becoming extremely popular with kids her age. Milda climbed off the stage as her friends continued on for a duet, and stopped, contemplative, staring out the restaurant window.

“Mother,” she called out. “I see a car pulling in!”

“Is it a black sedan?” Zephra asked from the counter.

“N-No, but maybe it's a company car...” Milda squinted to try and see the car's details. A tall, dark-dressed figure climbed out of the aerocar. She caught the figure's face and felt her eyes widen in surprise and joy.

The figure caught sight of Milda from the window and speed-walked towards the doors, a shop bag in his hand. Milda flung the door open, calling out, “Daddy!”

Lamp hurried inside and pulled Milda into a hug. She burrowed her face into his chest, wailing, “Daddy, I knew you'd make it!”

“I'm not the type to miss my own daughter's sweet sixteen,” Lamp said warmly, stepping back. With a soft smile, he offered the bag out to her, and Milda took it, peering inside.

“Oh my--!” Milda looked up, stunned. “Pablo Riviera heels?! But you've already given me a car--!”

“It's the least I can give you.” Lamp put a hand to her face, getting a good look at her as his heart swelled. “I'm so proud of you, Milda.”

Some of the teenagers had left the karaoke stage to check out the shoes in the bag, cooing and gasping. Lamp stood back, glad to see his daughter the centre of attention, but his eyes quickly wandered. They caught sight of a familiar tall blonde at the restaurant counter.

Zephra stared back at Lamp, drink in hand, with the needle-sharp glare of a lioness.

“Daddy,” Milda said with a tug at Lamp's sleeve. “Can you stay for the rest of the party?”

He looked back down to her and grinned. “Even better. I'm in town until tomorrow night!”

Milda squealed in excitement, hugging him. Even without looking up, Lamp just _knew_ Zephra was glaring at him intensely, but he refused to leave because of it. Milda was worth far more than his ego.

°°°°°°°

Hamegg honestly didn't like working under other people. It put him under too much stress. However, as Don Ghiacchi and eight of his goons showed Hamegg around the circus dome, he realized he could bear a boss in exchange for a job like this.

“This place is fantastic!” Hamegg sighed, staring out at the stadium seating. “And the whole place just folds up in transport, you said?”

Don Ghiacchi chuckled. He was a small, weathered olive-skinned man who looked not unlike a melting candle, peering out from under a panama hat. Hamegg deeply appreciated being on his good side.

Ghiacchi slapped a hand against the wall of the centre ring. He drawled, “It helps when ya gotta get town ta town on a strict schedule...robot circuses are the hottest thing right now, lemme tell you.”

“I'm glad it's the robots doing all the heavy work around here,” Hamegg said with a smirk. He could tell he was winning his potential sponsor over, but his nerves screamed for a drink or two. Or seven.

“An' I'm glad we found a guy who could take over dis.” Ghiacchi nodded firmly at Hamegg. “My guys were more willin' to give it over to a _fratello_ , you know what I'm sayin'?”

“Sure do!” Hamegg was applying with the Italian alias. A lie like that wouldn't hurt anyone, he'd figured.

“We got some paperwork ta drag ya through in a moment, but lemme lay somethin' out.” Ghiacchi took on a scowl, counting off points on his fingers. “One. No takin' more cash than yer contract allows. You git a percentage based on the income. Rest goes ta maintenance or sponsors. Pocket anythin' that ain't tips or otherwise allotted, an' we castrate ya. Sound good?”

“I understand,” Hamegg said, trying not to sweat his body weight at the threat.

“Two. Ya get it on wit' any of the robots and yer outta work. No exceptions.”

“Ew!” Hamegg involuntarily winced at the idea of fooling around with a robot. He adjusted his collar, continuing, “Y-You can count on me on _that_ , sir!”

Ghiacchi nodded approvingly. He shouted over his shoulder at a few of his younger-looking goons, “Take notes, ya three! I ain't takin' jokes 'bout robots lightly after I had ta fire that friggin' kinkster!”

Hamegg remained stoic, knowing better than to ask.

“And t'ree,” Ghiacchi continued, back to speaking. “Keep this place profitable. If sales are sinkin', _you_ bring 'em up. Find a robot, make it, buy one wit' the expense fund, I don't care.”

“I-I understand.”

Don Ghiacchi took a step back, sizing Hamegg up. He nodded approvingly, with a face like that of a man who'd just chosen a sports car off the lot. He purred, “I think I can trust ya, Hammy. Lemme get one a' the circus investors on the phone.”

A tall, wiry goon gestured for Hamegg to remain where he stood; Ghiacchi turned away and led two of his goons to the circus back office. Hamegg stood rigid, waiting for Ghiacchi to be out of sight, and when he was, Hamegg let out a pained sigh of relief.

“Need a cigarette, sir?” the tall goon whispered.

“ _Please_.”

°°°°°°°

By 9 PM, Love Sugar Karaoke was now packed with teenagers, who Lamp assumed to be most of Milda's classmates and the kids from her ballet or art classes. Even Eva, his oldest, had turned up to the party. Lamp loved his daughters, but that evening he was thankful Zephra and her fiance were footing the party's bill.

Lamp sat near the karaoke stage in a booth, alone, picking at a dish of peanut satay noodles he'd ordered. The kitchen had only given him chopsticks, and he fumbled with them frustratedly; it had been years since he'd needed to use anything but western utensils. Lamp kept himself perched right over the bowl, shoving noodles into his mouth. He carried on like that until he sensed movement out of the corner of his eye.

Zephra had stepped over to the side of the booth. She eyed him tensely; Lamp only stared back into her eyes, chewing his mouthful at his own pace, and then swallowing. He cleared his throat.

“So,” Lamp said. “Nice to see you're well.”

“So you came after all,” she replied. The snide was palpable.

“It's my daughter's birthday, Zephra.”

She turned away, arms crossed. “Dare I say I'm impressed. You lose points for coming in stinking of cigarettes.”

“Dare _I_ say your blood alcohol content is showing,” Lamp shot back. “What do you want out of me, Zeph? Do you really want a scene _here_?”

Zephra turned away. Lamp waited a moment, and then resumed eating. He was hungrier than he'd been willing to admit. Someone across the room finished a song, and Zephra clapped along with the sea of teenagers in the room.

She soon stopped and let her arms hang at her sides. She opened her mouth, trying to put her thoughts in order as she planned to speak, but froze; she felt like she was choking on the retorts she wanted to throw at her ex-husband. But, not wanting a fight, Zephra sighed, and turned back to Lamp in the booth.

“I'm glad you came,” she admitted. “You know full well how much I can't stand you, but you've made the girls so happy.”

“Ah.” Lamp glanced away, ashamed.

There had been so many times in the past when he missed family events. It was to a point where it had been one of the big factors in Lamp and Zephra's divorce. It stung to remember, but he knew that Zephra was feeling the same sting too. Lamp could come to more recent family events all he wanted, but it didn't fill the holes in the past. He sat quietly in the booth as Zephra stared out.

“Look how long her hair's getting,” she said idly, watching Milda talk to some of her friends. “She's always had such nice hair.”

It was true; Milda had long gold locks, a combination of Zephra's blonde and Lamp's waves. His heart swelled with pride when he looked up at her.

He turned to Zephra. “Yeah. Yeah, it must...must be easy to comb.”

“It's almost silk,” Zephra said. “I'm proud of her.”

“Me too.”

The conversation was mediocre in substance, but for the two of them, it was a landmark. The sound of the party and the kids talking and singing washed over the pair; Zephra looked back at Lamp with tired blue eyes. She smirked, shrugging.

“And you're here tomorrow, too? It's gotta be like Christmas for the girls.”

“Mm-hmm,” Lamp mumbled, setting down his chopsticks. He stood up and pulled his cigarette case out of his jacket.

“Stepping out?” Zephra asked, watching him shuffle out of the booth.

“Yeah.” He didn't make eye contact. “Just...ah...nerves.”

“Mm-hmm.”

Lamp shoved himself out the front door into the night street, the air crisp with the faintest chill. It felt like such a relief to breathe in, after being in a restaurant swamped with the staleness of re-breathed air. He took a minute to inhale, and exhale, and went about lighting a cigarette while well aware of the irony.

Lamp let himself walk along the restaurant outside. The little joint was at the centre of a strip mall, which was all but abandoned at that time of the evening. The only lights around came from the neon shop signs and the passing cars on the adjacent street. It was this sort of semi-suburban tranquillity that Lamp found so much comfort in. He leaned back against the restaurant exterior, taking it all in.

A long white car with tinted windows suddenly pulled into the strip mall parking lot, and Lamp's eyes trailed it as it drew closer. The car parked in front of him – across almost three parking spaces, no less – and he disgustedly blew smoke in the car's direction.

One of the back doors opened, and slim, black-clothed legs emerged. The figure got to his feet and Lamp could feel his eyes widen in awe. The now-smirking Hamegg shut the car door behind him, not taking his eyes off Lamp.

Hamegg stood neatly before him, dressed in a sleek black tuxedo, with a high collar and a silk white vest. His head was adorned with a top hat, the curls that peeked out had been neatly combed. Hamegg's smirk only grew as Lamp's eyes studied him more and more. Hamegg almost looked like he'd stepped out of a P.T. Barnum poster.

“ _Damn_ ,” Lamp purred.

“I see you like the new dress code,” Hamegg said, removing his hat and putting it to his chest as he gave a showy bow.

“You look _amazing_ , Ham.” Lamp flicked away the cigarette and stepped closer. “You look the role...and the slim slacks don't hurt.”

Hamegg smiled back, a bit tender now. He breathed, “I just wanted to say goodbye tonight.”

“Goodbye...?”

“Not forever, but you know...” Hamegg shook his head. “We're moving north for the tour in the morning. I'm getting back to my Roma roots.”

Lamp cocked an eyebrow. “Last time, you told me you were Italian.”

“And before _that_ , I told you I was Jewish. There's a lot in my blood,” Hamegg said with a smug tug at his crimson red bow tie. Lamp sighed.

“Well...” Lamp looked into his eyes. “I'm gonna miss you, Ham.”

“Take your kids to our next showing!” Hamegg pulled a small flyer from his tuxedo's inner pocket and held it out to Lamp. However, he froze, catching the look that Lamp was giving him. It was one with a tantalizing mix of pride and lust.

“Oh...?” Hamegg asked coyly. “How much will you miss me?”

“This much,” Lamp whispered, drawing nearer. He set a hand on Hamegg's shoulder, and the smaller man leaned forward, getting the hint.

Their lips met, locking together. Hamegg would have been content with that alone, but Lamp's hands slid their way to his back, pulling his scrawny body tight against Lamp's broad chest. Their tongues briefly tangled together before Lamp pulled back, staring into Hamegg's eyes. Hamegg struggled to catch his breath, eyes fluttering.

“O-Oh,” he sputtered softly. “That's a lot.”

“Uh- _huh_ ,” Lamp hummed, stepping back. He took the flyer from Hamegg's shaky gloved hand and pocketed it.

“I suppose I should get going, Ace,” Hamegg sighed, set his top hat back on. “I'll see you when I see you.”

“Don't get into any trouble that I wouldn't like.”

Hamegg opened the car door, and looked over his shoulder at Lamp, giving him an almost coquettish wink. “I'll try!”

Without another word, Hamegg slid into the back seat, slamming the door behind him. The long white car started again, and left the parking lot as silently and smoothly as it had come. Lamp fondly watched it leave. He was proud of Hamegg, so strongly in a way that he hadn't felt in a while.

Lamp sighed contentedly, turning away to walk back to the restaurant doors. He didn't need to worry about Hamegg for a while, and Hamegg didn't need to worry about him.


End file.
